


After

by TwoPisces



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoPisces/pseuds/TwoPisces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Myka try to heal after the destruction of the warehouse and too many deaths. Spoilers through Stand. Strong T/Mild M</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

Pete rolled over onto his side in bed, stretching his arms out to try and relieve the tension in his shoulders and back. Vibe after vibe had left him sore and drained but of course, unable to sleep. The cuts from his fight with Marcus pulled and ached as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the floor as he made his way out of his room. He rounded the bottom of the stairs, swinging his body to head to the kitchen (and the plate of Artie's snickerdoodles) when he noticed the shaft of light coming in from the open French doors.

Making his way into the sitting room, he noticed Myka's curls sticking up above the top of the lounge chair she was sitting in on the patio, a book sitting closed on the small table to her right. The moonlight caught the gold text on the cover: H.G. Wells. He let out a sigh and saw her head tilt to the side.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

Her words were soft, her voice rough from disuse and something he strongly suspects are tears. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, her feet bare and her toes glisten in a shiny grey polish she must have applied with Claudia at some point. He notices that her makeup is still on, smudged under her eyes in grey-black semi circles. He lets his hand slide against her shoulder and down her arm as he lowers himself into the chair next to her.

"Too much going on in my head to sleep. Too uncomfortable too." His shoulders raise and lower again in an effort to loosen up the muscles. She peers over at him with her chin resting on her folded arms.

"Your back? From the vibes or..?"

"And the glass from the balcony. The stupid riding crop didn't help either."

She makes a noise in her throat, acknowledging without actually speaking. There's a comfortable silence for a few minutes, her looking out blankly at the yard, not really seeing anything while he looks at her. The moon forms silvery highlights in her hair, catching the tangled curls and making them glow. She has a light tan from sitting outside with Claudia on their rare quiet days but in the moonlight she looks pale, thin. It makes his heart hurt.

"How's Claudia? Did they tell you anything?"

Myka sighs and rests her forehead on her arms for a few seconds before turning to look at him. "They sedated her eventually. I fought it, told them she was understandably upset, like all of us, but they said they couldn't trust that she would accept their decision."

"So they said no. They won't bring Steve back."

Her head moves slightly, her bottom lip coming between her teeth. "The pocket watch didn't fix everything. We still...lost."

He lets out a deep sigh and looks out at the grass. No, Artie's pocket watch certainly didn't fix everything. Of course it restored the warehouse and the artifacts but it couldn't restore the people. Mrs. Frederick was still dead. Helena was still dead. Steve was still dead. This would haunt him as much as the image of Myka - old, wrinkled, pale against the white hospital bed, far older than she should be - still did. People he cared for slipping through his fingers, him helpless to do anything to stop it.

He lets his head fall to the side, looking at Myka again when he catches the shimmer of a tear making its way down her cheek. He watches as it carves a silvery trail over the curve of her cheekbone, dipping in the slight hollow that had developed, into the corner of her lips before wrapping around her chin. That one, solitary drop of salty liquid propels him forward, pushing himself off the lounge chair, across the five feet of brick pavers to the edge of her chair. She raises her head to look at him, not bothering to swipe at the wetness on her face, and draws her eyebrows together in question.

"Come here."

When she still looks confused he reaches out, grasping her hand and pulling her up off the chair. His fingers sliding between hers as he leads her through the doors, stopping to pull them shut and flip the lock before heading for the stairs. She mutely follows him, her thumb rubbing circles against the back of his hand as they climb the steps.

"Yours or mine?"

She gives him a startled look and he realizes how she took it.

"No, I just..not...not like that. Not now."

Not now? What?

She looks at him and he feels a moment of panic when he thinks maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe she wouldn't want to lay with him, take comfort from him like this. Then, he sees her eyes soften, feels the small tug on his hand as she moves toward the door to his room.

She pushes the door open and waits for him as he pushes it shut, turning the lock. He really doesn't want Artie or...anyone really, in here. This is about them, him trying to help heal her, her healing him. He tugs her over to the bed, standing awkwardly at the edge before she takes pity on him. She drops his hand and crawls across the bed, laying on her side facing away from him. He follows her, sliding into the bed and pulling the covers over them. He pauses briefly before sliding one arm under her neck, wrapping it around her shoulders, the other coiling around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He feels her relax against him, melting back into him until there's no space left between them. He buries his nose into the curls at the top of her head, drawing in the sweetly floral smell of her, like she's been laying in roses and sugar all day, and closes his eyes. He feels himself drifting off to sleep when he hears her voice. Soft, quiet, and timid.

"I need you more than you know."

-/-/-/-/-

They don't sleep alone anymore. He never acknowledges what she said that first night either. He's not even sure he knows what she meant but he likes to think he does. He needs her like he needs air or water. Losing her would break him more than anything else he can imagine.

He's pretty sure Artie knows that they've been sleeping in the same room but he never says anything. He knows Leena knows. After that first morning, sitting at the table for breakfast she did her staring-looking-into-your-soul thing and the biggest smile he had ever seen from her crossed her face. Apparently their auras were pretty colors because after breakfast, a plate of cookies slid in front of him and Leena's hand grasped his for a split second before she glided back into the kitchen to clean up. He took that as approval.

It was wonderfully quiet on the artifact front for a few months, giving all of them them mental space to deal with what happened. Claudia was released back to them after two weeks. Myka immediately took to mothering her, gleaming that after her initial medical sedation, she had spent a great deal of time with psychiatrists and counselors. Not only had she been dealing with Steve's death but she had also become the caretaker of the warehouse when Mrs. Frederick died. Instead of shunning it like he thought she would, she had embraced it. She had taken all of the hurt and anger over Steve and channeled it into protecting the Warehouse like he had tried to do.

The night Claudia had come back, he went to bed without Myka. He was still awake, tossing and turning two hours later when his door opened, Myka sliding in and shutting it quickly. She slid into the bed, cuddling into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

"I didn't think you were coming tonight."

"I was just making sure she was okay. I...I don't think I can sleep alone anymore."

He didn't respond. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged what was happening and he was on the same page as her. It was obvious tonight when he was exhausted and yet his bed was too cold, his arms empty. Even four months later, they've never talked about it.

At first, it was just sleeping together at night. Then the edges blurred and they were taking walks during the day holding hands, picking out a movie every Tuesday and Friday and sitting on the couch with all the lights off to watch it. Pressed together from shoulder to knee, two bowls of popcorn in front of them, one plain with just a little salt and cayenne pepper, the other with entirely too much butter and salt. They stuck to comedies, avoiding anything with death or sci-fi in it. It was the movie nights that made the few...incidents...they'd had at night more clear in his mind. Especially last night.

Myka was a beautiful woman, he would be an idiot to not acknowledge that. He found her incredibly attractive, had since he first met her. He had told her only once, before she went out on a runway that led to her almost dying on him. When she had tried to talk to him about it, he brushed her off and practically ran from her. The problem was, after the hurt had started to ease and sleeping with her in his arms was more about being close to her than comforting her, he had started having dreams.

Those kind of dreams.

More than once (okay, it had been exactly 6 times) he had woken up with Myka pressed against him and little Pete pressed right back into her. Twice he had been able to pull away enough to get himself under control without waking her up. Another two times he hadn't been quick enough and he had gotten a glimpse of her flushed cheeks as she got up and excused herself from his room. The last two times, the most recent, had been what did him in. Both times he'd woken up and tried to pull away to lay on his back. Both times she had tightened her grip on his arms and snuggled back into him, her (amazing) ass wiggling suggestively against his hardness. The first time he had practically jumped from the bed, muttering something about a shower over his shoulder at her half awake, confused expression.

The second time, last night...he didn't leave. He had buried his face in her sugar-rose hair, his arm sliding down until his hand was griping her hip and let his mind wander. He imagined what it would be like if sleeping together was more than just sleeping. If she let him press back against her, let one of his hands cup her breast while the other slid under her yoga pants. If he could make her sigh and moan his name...

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, his hand around her hip pulled her back and he ground himself against her. He let out a quiet groan into her hair and then held his breath, mortified that she was awake and had felt him. He tried to listen to her breathing, tried to peek around her to see if her eyes were open.

She was still asleep. He let out the breath that he had been holding and tried to calm down. He was trying to imagine Artie naked when it happened. She smacked her lips together, her tongue coming out to run against her full bottom lip at the same time that her hips pushed back against his and a moan left her mouth.

"Mmm...Pete..."

His mouth hung open in shock. He watched as a flush moved up from the neckline of her tank top, covering the tops of her breasts, up her neck and into her cheeks. She tightened her hand around his at her shoulder and rocked back against him again, rubbing her thighs together. This was not good. He couldn't just lay here and watch her ...what? Have a sex dream? Get off? Thinking about him? She rocked back against him again and he pressed back, his hips responding automatically. Her breathing picked up and he started to panic. She had to wake up, there's no way she could sleep through all of this. He knew he should move away and get out of bed but watching her like this, flushed and panting, caught up in her dream about him, was better than any drop of alcohol he had ever had.

Deciding to risk her shooting him dead with a Tesla, he leaned down and took the lobe of her ear between his lips, biting down softly before trailing kisses down her neck. Her soft moans started again as she wriggled her ass against him. His hand moved to the soft curve of her tummy between her hips and guided her thrusts, rubbing against him just the right way. He could feel himself starting to lose it and pulled back to look at her face.

Her eyes were open and she craned her head to look at him. He went completely still, bracing for her to yell at him or hit him all the while he was on the edge of coming. Her eyes were wide and dark, her lips a deep red. They looked like she had been biting them.

"Don't...don't stop. Please."

He stared at her, letting the shock roll over him immediately followed by heat. Her hips pushed back into his again, dragging a moan from him as his hand clenched against her stomach. He slid his right hand into her hair and splayed his left out to pull her hips back, lining her up with him. Her eyes slipped shut as he set a steady rhythm.

"Look at me. I...I want to watch you."

Her eyes popped open again, staying fixed on his as his hand moved down to press against her with each thrust. Her teeth caught her lip as her moans turned into small whines. He was so close to coming and he wanted her with him. He leaned down and whispered what he hoped would push her over the edge.

"Come with me, Myka."

She threw her head back letting his name escape her lips as she went still, trembling as her orgasm tore through her. He buried his moan in her hair as he came a second after her, his hips thrusting against her softly.

The room filled with their harsh panting and he opened his hand that had been clutching her hair. He looked down at her and found her eyes opening slowly to look at him. She turned to lay on her back and raised a hand to cup the side of his face. He closed his eyes as her thumb ran across his lips.

"We should get up."

His eyes opened and he gave her a confused look.

"Shouldn't we-"

"Later. I...I need to process this. I don't want to say something stupid."

He nodded, pausing a few seconds before broaching what was causing a knot to form in his stomach.

"You don't...regret-"

"No! No. I couldn't."

-/-/-/-/-

And now, here he sat. They hadn't talked. Myka had been with Claudia most of the day while Artie dragged him to the Warehouse. Their popcorn sat untouched on the coffee table while some Adam Sandler movie droned on. When had Adam Sandler gotten so not funny?

"So..."

He watched Myka take a few deep breaths, drawing one knee up and turning toward him on the couch. She reached over and grabbed one of his hands, trapping it between hers on her bent knee.

"Pete...you've been so patient with me. After Sam I just...I couldn't get too close to you. I was so, so scared that if I let myself love you too, that you'd get taken from me. I was honest when we were hunting Leo. I could never recover from that. I'd be in some...Warehouse, Regent crazy house, rocking in the corner."

"Mykes..."

"No, I'm serious. You are the most frustrating, childish man I've ever met. But you're also the most loving, funny...deep person I know. There are so many layers to you and I could spend a lifetime trying to find them all. I think it just took us losing almost everything, all that we love burning down around us, to make me realize that I've been in love with you for a while now. I'm not just your partner."

He looked at her, her eyes moving up from their hands to his face. Her eyes were clear and the corner of her mouth lifted into the little half smile he loved. He tugged on her hands and wrapped his fingers under her knee to pull her to straddle his lap. His hands fell to her hips while hers rested on his shoulders.

"You haven't been just my partner for a long time. I don't think I could even pinpoint when I fell in love with you. You've replaced liquor for me. Instead of it, I crave you. Just seeing you smile or laugh with Claude, watching that fire in you when you're reading about a new artifact...I live for those moments. What happened last night...it was inevitable. Wasn't it?"

She gave him a real smile now, wide and full. Her hands came up to his jaw, fingers curling around his ears and into the short hair behind them.

"I think it was. I think we were."

She leaned toward him and kissed him, slowly and softly. Their tongues touching and caressing. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her to him.

"Oh, thank god you guys got...this figured out." Artie said, waving his hands at them. "New case people, we're meeting at the warehouse. Let's go!"

Artie's voice pulled them apart and his small smile before he headed out the door made her smile. Pete touched the side of her face before reaching down to tangle their fingers together.

"Ready to do this?"

She stood, pulling him to press against her and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Always, partner."

They walked to the door together, her sliding on her tall black boots, him his old Converse before walking out to the car, hand in hand.


End file.
